The Aftermath
by rycom1989
Summary: MOVIEVERSE: The morning after the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, one of his old adversaries sits at his table and begins to plot his path to domination in the president's absence. In another part of the country, Abe's old friend, Henry Sturges, struggles to deal with the loss of his acquaintance. Adam/OC, moderate violence & sexual references in places, WIP.


With a subtle flicker of the pages of his fresh morning newspaper, he immediately notices the headline stretched ceremonially across the top of the front page; **Assassination of President Lincoln, a Nation Mourns**. A wicked smile of delight spreads slowly across his thin lips, broadening gradually into an evil beam,  
"You poor unfortunate fool." He remarks in a faint Southern drawl, with a voice of venerable wisdom, "I offered you a life without end, and look where your refusal of my offer has got you now." He laughs sharply, as he folds the paper back in half, without reading the entirety of the article, and places it on the varnished table top. It is then that he notices the ugly scars that have remained on his hands. Flesh that had once been red & blistered, now purple like a bruise & cracking about the edges of the wounds to make way for the new flesh that will replenish his hands. These are the marks left on his flesh by the flames on what was a fateful night for the nation. For his people. He should have perished with the rest of his people on that day, but it was another of God's little tricks. The spell of immortality that comes with being what he is. A beast in human form; a vampire. Yet, he is the one from whom all others are made. He is Adam. As he sits leaning close to the long table, he can still hear the cracking of those flames that engulfed him, as he fell to the water below the bridge. He can still feel the heat blistering his skin, and the shake of the train on the tracks. He can even still feel the pain of the president's silver pocket-watch, the same one that he had prized from the cold dead hand of Jack Barts, penetrating through his entire abdomen. Infuriated by the memories, he slams his fist against the table. It cracks with the pressure of his force, infuriating him further, and he curses himself for his supernatural strength. Rising swiftly from his chair, he takes a moment to gaze around the grand dining hall of the derelict mansion. Hidden amongst the swampland of the Deep South, no one came looking for his own private kingdom once his army fell. Everyone had believed the evil monarch to be dead; there was no requirement to raze his castle, for he would never be returning to it. And so it stood in amongst the marshes & looming willows, as a reminder of the sordid past of the American South. President Lincoln had personally seen to the eradication of the vampire race, but he had not ensured that Adam was truly dead. He had wounded him with silver, seen the vampire crushed by a falling train carriage, and watched the bridge crumble in flames to the river below. There was no need for the president to check the wreckage for any corpses. Now, with Abraham himself dead and his advisor on all things supernatural in hiding, Adam can rise to power once again and claim the nation for his people, whilst the people of America are in a state of grieving,  
"Are you watching, Mr Lincoln?" He sneers up to the Heavens, as though he can stare right in the dead man's eyes, "I'm going to destroy everything you worked so relentlessly to create."

Sharply, his wicked smile begins to fade, as he guardedly lowers his head. The sudden realisation of his hunger has sprung upon him. It has been three days since he last feasted properly, but it had been such a good banquet that he had not felt the urge to feast again until now. Three days previous he had delighted in a young maiden. A local woman no more than nineteen years of age. Stopping short of draining her of every drop of blood in her veins, he considered the option of keeping her around for errands and soon she became his deceased sister's replacement at his side. Feeling his appetite soar at the mere thought of the delectable young specimen, he begins to saunter resolutely across to the grand stairs at the back of the grand dining room. As he walks, the heels of his tattered leather boots click against the wooden floor in a trivially menacing manner. The tapping reverberates through the large old house, as a brunette girl trembles under a mahogany desk in the expansive study to the front of the house. Her skin is almost as pale as the paper in the ledger upon the desk, and her hair is as dark as the mahogany wood she cowers beneath. The boots tap heavily up the stairs and fade away, as the young woman scrambles awkwardly from beneath the desk. She is still weak from the vampire's feast three days prior, as her knees almost collapse beneath even her slight weight. In a moment of courage, her wide dark eyes dart to the doors that lead out into the daylight. Though the mansion is dim & foreboding, sunlight still manages to break through the gaps of the curtains over the tall windows. Adam must be coming back down the stairs, having not found the girl on the upper level of the house, as his boot heels grow louder again. Deciding that it is now or never, she sprints for the grand entrance of the mansion with bare feet. She had lost her boots shortly after entering, but cannot remember exactly how or when. The boots have fallen silent. He must have stopped. Hysterically, she pulls at the doors, but they merely rattle in their refusal to open. Turning in desperation, she cannot see him,  
"Lilith?" His voice immediately calls out in his customarily welcoming accent from within the mansion, "Where are you hiding this time? You know I don't like to play games." His tone rapidly cools in his annoyance of her evasive tactics. Glancing about her, an open window begins to tease her from within the dining hall, where he had been reading the paper. A rare opportunity to escape, as the windows are rarely opened in this dusty old mansion. Pausing a moment to listen, she cannot hear him, and so she makes a desperate dash to escape through the opening. As she clambers on to the frame, an imperceptible hand grasps her throat tightly and proceeds to drag her back into the dining hall.

From thin air, Adam materialises before her and grimaces wickedly in his displeasure of her disobedient behaviour. With his mystifying eyes full of undeniable hunger, he holds her several inches off the floor with ease, causing her to choke. He keeps her this way for a few moments, before gradually releasing her from his grasp and allowing her to fall exhaustedly to the ground. Her torn & blood-stained dress skirt crumples untidily around her weak legs, as she gasps desperately for breath,  
"Do I dissatisfy you in some way?" The vampire asks in a malicious whisper, as he leans coldly over her. One of his hands comes to rest softly against her curved back, as she struggles for air, "I offer you the hospitality of my home, and I provide you with every necessity you could ever want. In return, I take what services from you I might require. And, you wish to escape from that? What have I done that displeases you so?" He asks in the same threatening whisper. She fails to provide him with an answer, as she is still gasping jadedly. Dissatisfied with his insubordinate servant, he opens his mouth to reveal his sharp white fangs and soon buries them into the supple flesh of her neck. She screams immediately with the pain, as the vampire feasts on her. Once again, he near enough drains her of all the blood in her veins, but decides to once again leave her with enough so that she will live. Once he is finished, he releases her from his ravenous grasp and allows her to collapse upon the floor. Taking a moment to gaze down at her, he finds himself smiling in a strange fondness for the girl, who lies motionless before him. Her black hair now flows delicately about her head, like some sinisterly beautiful halo of darkness, and her skin is now as pale as the first winter snow. Subconsciously, in his state of admiration of her, Adam reaches his fingers to her restful face and tenderly caresses her pallid cheek in affection that has become unfamiliar to him, "Lilith…" He mutters under his breath. She had been a previously inhibited girl of the South, who had shared in some of his views on President Lincoln's declarations during his term in office. He had originally noticed her whilst out riding one gloomy afternoon, when there had been little need for sunscreen, but he had refrained from delighting in her. It hadn't seemed proper decorum to simply devour a beautiful young flower such as Lilith. And so, he let her go on her way. Then, shortly after the battle of Gettysburg, she had found her way to his front door in search of solace. Her father & brother had fallen in the civil war between states, after her mother had succumbed to a strange illness only a couple of years earlier. There had been no place else for her to travel; the mansion at the end of the road had been the only door she could knock on. A scarred & tired Adam had answered that door, and she immediately took foolish pity on him. She cleaned & dressed his wounds, then he feasted on her blood. Her soul was pure, so there was no way he could ever turn her into his kind, but he could keep her alive to feed off her again & again. And so he did.

In the dimly study of his expansive townhouse, Henry Sturges reclines exhaustedly on the black Chaise Lounge chair by the curtained window, a newspaper resting indifferently in a hand that hangs listlessly over the side. A half-empty bottle rests in his other hand on the raised side of the chair. The headline on the newspaper is the same as the one Adam had read; **Assassination of President Lincoln, a Nation Mourns**. He had only spoken to Abraham the evening before, prior to the president leaving for the theatre with his wife, Mary. Henry had tried to persuade Abe to allow himself to be turned by his trusted mentor, but the astute man had dodged the suggestion by searching for his favoured hat. That was the last time Henry had seen the great man, the father of a free nation, and that is how he would remember him now. Not as the fearless hunter of beasts in the night, but as the humble leader of a nation and a modest family man. Listlessly, Henry lifts his head from the back of the chair, as the sunlight peers gradually in through the thin white curtain hanging in front of the tall window. Shielding his weary eyes with the newspaper, he reads the article concerning his old friend's death once again, in the hope that he had missed a vital clue. Wondering if it could have been the work of a former foe, or one of his surviving allies, Henry scans the words for something that stands out to his supernatural eyes. Though he is one of those who stalks the shadows, he has fought against his kind in the search for revenge against their monarch. Adam was the one who turned him. Adam was the one who killed his love. The memory still stings him, the pain still rips at his heart. Yet, the vampire monarch had fallen in the flames of the bridge, with the train set as a decoy, but that did not mean he was truly dead. Henry knows that all too well. Vampires are notoriously difficult to kill, but it is not impossible. Henry had trained the young Abraham Lincoln to slay these unholy creatures fuelled by blood. And, Adam was the strongest of them all. Throwing the newspaper aside in frustration, he cannot find a single clue, no sign that John Wilkes Booth was working in conjunction with the fallen vampire monarch. This, however, does not satisfy Henry. He is still doubtful. It would have been effortless for Adam to set up a backup plan, something that Henry had always taught Abraham to do, in case his first did not play out as expected. Leaping audaciously from the chaise lounge chair in his haste to solve the case, he is immediately overcome with the rush of alcohol through his system & the blood to his head. As he stumbles haphazardly across the chamber floor, he realises that he has to feed before doing anything else. Without feeding his cravings for the unnatural source of his strength, he cannot quell his suspicions about the vampire monarch's contingency plan.

Stumbling through the mess of tossed papers & discarded objects scattered about the floor, he comes to realise just how hungry he has become. It has been days, if not weeks already, since he last dined properly. His head pounds with the relentless craving, something he still has not become accustomed to, and the alcohol he has consumed in the last evening. The craving is something he still fights against, not wishing to turn against those he has lived amongst for years. He had been raised as one of them, taught amongst their company. Then, Adam used his impure soul to turn him into a monster that would have to now feast upon those he once called friends & associates. Taking care not to tumble on the stone steps, he makes his way down to the door that leads out on to the street. The sun is already bright, and almost blinds the vampire's exhausted eyes. Ironic, Henry thinks to himself, for the morning of such a sombre day for the nation. There is hardly anyone in the street outside, typical of a day of united mourning. Henry pulls his sunglasses from out of his interior jacket pocket and wraps them over his bleary eyes, before straightening his tattered clothes. Stepping cautiously out into the daylight, which still stings his undead skin, as the paper boy returns down the street from delivering to every house present. Henry forces himself to turn away from the youth; he never feeds on the young, as they are too insufficient for his adult frame and still so innocent. Every child he sees seems to remind him of Willie Lincoln, the little boy taken from Abe & Mary by Vadoma, Adam's sister. He was still a young boy, taken from his parents by the war his father had waged upon Adam & the entire South. Henry makes a left turn at the end of the path leading to his front door, and heads along the road at an uneasy pace. Not wishing to appear suspicious to the snooping eyes hiding in the curtained windows, he tries to walk tall and only keep his head bowed in respect for his dead friend. His hunger, however, causes him to stoop over and wrap his jacket around him as though it is bitterly cold. Immediately, two police man ride past on their carriage, their black horses matching the exterior of the wagon they pull behind them. Both men glance suspiciously at Henry, as he passes with his head low and avoiding their eyes, but choose to continue on their way. Henry had been watching the men from the corners of his eyes and, as soon as they had disappeared at his back, he felt himself start to relax. Yet, hooves click behind him, as though another vehicle approaches. Turning in curiosity, Henry discerns the police wagon is now at his back, having turned in the street. One of the officers jumps down from their bench at the front of the wagon, as soon as the horses have stopped,  
"Something the matter, Sir?" He asks in a rough voice. He is taller than Henry, more than enough to satisfy his appetite, but he is an officer of the law. And, he has a partner still sitting on the wagon, who suspiciously eyes up the pallid skinned suspect standing alongside the harnessed animals. Henry looks up to the face of the officer standing before him,  
"Just a common cold, Officer. I thought some fresh air would do me some good." He lies. It seems to have been a convincing one, however, as the officer shrugs his shoulders and mounts back on to the bench. The carriage turns back and continues down the road in the opposite direction to Henry. He sighs in relief, before starting on his walk again.

He comes to a darkened corner of the street, a notorious place of depravity in the otherwise unassuming neighbourhood. It is where the call-girls, the mortal ladies of the night, gather to garner custom from the lecherous men. Henry skulks into the alley, no one will care if one of these low-class individuals goes missing. He halts immediately and shakes his head. They are innocent. They are making a living the only way they know how, and he has partaken of their services all too often to satisfy his other hunger. He slips into the shadows unseen, and waits. Evening will fall soon enough, and some over-zealous fiend will come calling on the girls. When he gets too much for them, Henry will come to their aid and partake in his carnivorous tradition. Silently, he curses the vampire that turned him and clenches his fist. There is no undoing of Adam's work, there is no way to return to his former life. He will be a vampire until the end of his days; that is, until someone kills him with a piece of silver. He had taught Abraham that old trick. One of the curses upon the cursed. Another is that vampires cannot kill each other. They can hurt one another, but Adam cannot kill him nor him Adam. Another of God's tricks, his master had informed him. _Only the living can kill the dead_. Henry straightens up in realisation. He needs to find himself a new disciple, a new man who will rise up to unrecognised greatness and finish what Abraham had started, if the vampire monarch had somehow survived the fall through the flames. Henry had survived the fall their carriage took, he had even helped Abraham & his friend William to safety by holding the tracks steady long enough for the two men to leap from the falling train. The bridge, and its heavy burden of the locomotive engine, had collapsed in a colossal ball of flames, but Adam was stronger than Henry. Adam had seen five thousand years before the advent of the abolition of slavery. He had seen Romans feed Christians to starving lions, the Egyptians use Jewish settlers to build their mighty pyramids, and he had even witnessed the Africans profit from the selling of their own kind to the likes of Europe & America. One can only begin to imagine what else his age-old eyes had borne witness to. The torture, the bloodshed, the horrors of humanity. Henry pauses; Adam must have seen some happier moments in his five-thousand years also. It cannot possibly have been nothing more than misery, unless the vampire monarch relished in the suffering of others. Henry begins to wonder if Adam had been the head of a loving family at one time or another; a man with a wife on his arm & children at his feet, instead of a vampire with a dark history behind his wise features. There must be a reason for all the hatred & suffering he had caused. All the darkness in his soul cannot have been born with him. A man is not born in hatred, he is not bred in darkness. A vampire, however, is a different species, though the two entities may look exactly alike.

Lilith arouses in a state of drowsiness, to find herself having been laid out under the warmth of a linen coverlet in a four-post bed, which stands in a small bedchamber on the uppermost floor of the mansion. To the left of the bed, which is large for one and yet small for two, sits Adam. From the comfort of the bergère chair he has seated himself in, the vampire reads aloud from a book in his hands. In the warmest voice he can muster from his throat, he tells the tale of a small town, which has been perturbed by the curse of a Headless Horseman, but he seems to have little interest in the story itself. Peering up from the pages of the black-bound book in his hands, he notes to himself that his underling has indeed woken from her rest, but chooses to continue with his reading. Lilith, overwhelmed by a rush of dizziness, rests her head back against the plumpness of her pillows, causing Adam to pause in his recounting of the tale. He has told it to her many times since she arrived on his doorstep, amongst others, but she has rarely been awake for his recitations. He has often treated her as a child, the daughter he was never blessed with, more than the beloved he has never known. Discerning the rolling of her pupils to the back of her head, he closes the book with care and places it on the small table beside the bed. Leaning over her a moment, he smiles in the same fondness he had felt upon looking at her motionless form earlier. He had, in that moment, then taken it upon himself to carry her carefully up the once grand stairs and lay her down in the bed she has come to frequent. For now, he will leave her to rest, as she needs time to recuperate before his next feed. It should not be for a few days yet, but it may take her that length of time to recover from his last collation. Besides, his mind is too preoccupied to continue reading to the comatose woman; what with the recent assassination of his once arch-nemesis. He cannot quite believe his great fortune at the expense of the President's own misfortune. Mr Lincoln had presumed his old foe deceased, his empire crushed & fallen, but Adam would have had Abraham believe anything he wanted him to. For what Abraham didn't know was that the undead monarch already knew of Speed's double-cross misperception. He knew the silver was never on the train. He knew Mr Lincoln would have another plan up his sleeve. A contingency plan. As he saunters casually along the grand landing of his old mansion, he finds himself suddenly thinking of one Henry Sturges. The rebellious subordinate he had turned & allowed to go free. Henry had sided with Abraham; in fact, he had trained Mr Lincoln to become a vampire hunter and had aided him in many victories. Henry Sturges, the name is like the sharpest of acids to the vampire. As he descends the stairs, he pauses to listen to the silence of his castle. His dilapidated kingdom that lies in ruins. Yet, a terrible clatter of objects & the heavy scraping of furniture across the floor in Lilith's chamber soon disrupts the peace. Turning sharply on his heels, Adam returns swiftly to investigate.

His disoriented subordinate rests, crumpled in exhaustion, on the hardwood floor of the bedchamber, only a few steps away from the bed. Her dark hair has fallen over her lowered face, her white linen nightdress is wrinkled over her weak & slender frame, as she struggles for breath in her lethargy. Adam steps suspiciously across to her and leans down,  
"And, where is it that you were planning on going in your state?" He asks in his usually cold mutter.  
"I-I was…I was…" She struggles in a delicate voice, as she attempts to point to the entrance of her chamber. The vampire glances mistrustfully to the doors, having left them open behind him upon walking into the room to find her where she presently kneels, before turning back to his underling,  
"Now, Lilith my dear, you mustn't be going anywhere, especially not in your disarrayed state of mind. Come, I will aid back to your bed, as you will need your strength soon enough, I am sure." He mutters in a softly sinister tone, as he lifts her from the floor by her arms. She does not fight against him, as she is unable. Her limbs are so weak that they hang without life from her master's grasp. Dragging her carelessly across the floor to the bed, he pulls her up on to the mattress and releases her uncaringly from his control. There, she collapses upon her side in somnolence. Treating the young woman as though she were some misbehaving child, Adam marches out of the chamber without another word passing his tightly closed lips, making certain to lock the doors behind him this time, and leaves his underling to rest once again. Returning to his task of walking down the staircase, he finds himself once again in the dining chamber. The damaged antique table still stands in the centre of the grand room, though the space is more befitting of a hall. Hanging on the south-facing wall is a portrait of his departed sister, which he comes to at a solemn gait and gazes mournfully upon,  
"We must all make sacrifices for the cause, Vadoma." He begins, "You made yours at Gettysburg, upon believing me to have fallen in flame, whilst I have truly yet to make mine. Though, it would seem, that our cause has become a little easier to accomplish now, what with the departure of our dear friend from this mortal realm." He states quietly to the portrait in confidence. Vadoma looks nothing like himself, or Lilith; with her blonde hair and antique beauty. His new servant has a new-age grace about her; the look of Southern elegance in all its finery. It will be a shame to lose her, to be deprived of her blood. He glances, for a moment, down at his hands; the burns upon the skin are starting to heal, slowly. Her blood is giving him back his strength, if not making him stronger. His eyes dart up from his scarred hands in a moment of realisation; she could become the sacrifice he has yet to make. He needs her blood to remain strong, and win the nation as his at last, but she may well become his sacrifice to the cause.

Before Henry can even realise, night has fallen in the cramped alley that he still hides himself in amongst the mortal ladies of the night. They cannot see him in the shadows, cloaked by the safe darkness, but he has seen many familiar faces pass by in their boredom. With the nation in mourning for their fallen president, taken before his time, business has been lacking this evening. Henry is still starving for the sustenance that helps him to thrive, to the point where he even contemplates partaking from one of the working girls instead of the sleaze that crawls around these sorts of places. Shaking his head violently, he realises that he cannot do that. No matter how hungry he becomes, he could never drain one of these girls of their blood. Since being turned, Henry had kept little in the way of male company, if any at all. It had been a male vampire who had turned him. The monarch himself. Adam, and a band of his unbecoming associates, had come upon Henry & his beloved wife on a quiet stretch of road. Although the sun had been bright that day, the vampires were still out in high numbers. Henry had no chance to defend himself, let alone Edeva, but he faced up to them regardless. Three came at him, all thirsty for his blood, but all three he fought off courageously. Then, it was the turn of the exasperated monarch himself. Adam; the strongest, the fastest, and the most ruthless of them all. Casting aside his hat & his cloak, he strode up to Henry and in swift ease had knocked the man to the ground. The bloodlust was upon Adam in that moment; the vampire snarled & salivated over Henry, and all seemed lost. Until, in her desperate bravery, Edeva stabbed at the vampire with the knife that her husband had accidentally cast aside in his struggle against the malevolent monarch. She was dragged back and held fast by two of Adam's associates, whilst their ruler tore at Henry's shirt and sunk his teeth into the young man's neck. Edeva's scream still shatters Henry's heart whenever he recalls the terrible day. Once Adam had dealt Henry the devastating & debilitating blow, he moved for Henry's wife. She screamed for mercy, but the vampire would not listen. Lifting her up & close to him, he spun with her whilst the blood drained from her veins & satisfied him. Once he was done, Edeva collapsed lifelessly to the dirt road,  
"_Her soul was pure, but yours, Henry_…" Adam's haunting words echo from deep within Henry's memory. That was the moment his life became a living, breathing nightmare. He was in no dream, he was facing reality. His wife gone, his mortality stolen. Adam would have to pay for the horror he had caused, the suffering he had doled out to countless others, but Henry could not do it alone. Vampires cannot kill their own kind, something else the monarch had told him, "_One of God's little tricks_." He had informed Henry in a cold, unfeeling manner, before adding, "_Welcome to the family_."

"Evening, ladies." The booming voice of a carefree drunk resonates quickly down the alley, reaching the ears of the meditating vampire in the shadows. The large silhouetted figure stumbles haphazardly along, calmly passing Henry's hiding place without so much as a glance in the prowler's general direction. There would have been nothing for the drunkard to discern anyhow, as Henry has concealed himself from sight. However, a waft of the alcohol seeping from the man's pores tickles at the vampire's nostrils, causing him to turn his nose up in disgust at the stench. A meal is a meal, but Henry might be prepared to wait for something not quite so boozed up as this lecher. He will need a clear head, if he is to investigate his old disciple's untimely passing into the next natural stage of life. The drunk abruptly returns to stand before the vampire's hiding place, as he eyes up a buxom young brunette in front of him. She had been standing there for most of the night, sometimes sitting herself on a nearby barrel for respite, and Henry knew her as Gabrielle. She was the one he had picked off the street the night he had saved Abe from certain defeat at the hands of the visibly ravenous Barts. Abe had even likely mistaken her cries of pleasure to be ones of fear & desperation, as Henry recalls the moment the half-naked & badly-beaten future president burst into the bathroom occupied by himself & Gabrielle brandishing a large candlestick-holder in his hands. An impetuous youth of a man, nothing more than a goddamned idiot. However, first impressions are rarely ever on the mark or everlasting. Henry had taken Abraham in, shown him all that he knew in the ways of slaying vampires. At the present moment, Gabrielle turns away from the prospective client in disgust,  
"Urgh, go home, Cyrus. You're too drunk, and we're all in mourning."  
"Then, what you doing out here tonight?"  
"This is where most of us live, Cyrus. At least you can go home tonight, which you should do. The nation's in mourning anyhow, this business is closed until further notice." Gabrielle states irately, not knowing that Henry is still watching from the shadows or that he has been there for the last several hours. Cyrus, a large figure of a man with thinning hair atop his head and dressed in ragged clothes, leans against the wall behind the prostitute, so as to block her escape,  
"Some handle grief differently to others, Gabrielle, and this is how I want to deal with mine." He slurs, but the working girl pushes him away,  
"I said not tonight, Cy, now go home."  
"You work for this sort of thing, dear, now take the damned money! The police aren't coming to help anyhow, because they're in mourning too."

Feeling that he has seen enough of the dishonour shown toward his favourite girl, Henry steps out of the shadows at Cyrus' back. Still hidden by the vampire's natural ability to go unseen, he comes to the large man's back. He takes a moment to inspect the drunk's thick, sweaty neck. A meal is a meal, and he has to feast soon. Glancing at Gabrielle's uneasy expression at the lechery of the drunk, Henry catches himself thinking of Edeva. She was also a brunette with porcelain-white skin. He had not wanted his last memory of her to be her lying on the dirt road, blood stains upon her beautiful dress, but there was nothing he could have done against Adam. In a flash, he turns his attention back to Cyrus, who leans closer now to Gabrielle. Henry had wished for her to never learn of his secret and, once he devours the drunk, he will never be able to return to this alleyway again. A price he is reluctantly willing to pay for Gabrielle's safety. Opening his mouth, he reveals the lines of sharp teeth that are often hidden from mortal eyes with a façade. Saliva drips & oozes, as he slavers hungrily with the thought of his next meal. All mortal tendencies are gone, leaving only those of a vampire behind in his conscience. Vampires must feast on blood to survive, but there are only so many infirm & elderly to go around. Cyrus is a wifeless, jobless, nobody whose death will likely go unnoticed by many in the neighbourhood. What is one miserable life to a vampire? Little more than nourishment. With that and very little consideration for potential witnesses, Henry sinks his teeth mercilessly into Cyrus' neck. The drunk stumbles back with some coercion from the vampire, and this allows Gabrielle to flee in fear of her own life. From thin air, the vampire materialises now that it is safe for him to reveal his true form. Henry, though a small individual in comparison to Cyrus, makes little work of his meal and the drunkard is soon lying limply on the damp stone ground of the alleyway. Henry, his chin & lips now stained with the sustenance he needed, stands above his victim in a moment of unfamiliar behaviour for his kind. He is mourning the loss of one life for the survival of another. It is not natural to live in this manner. Yet, he cannot remain here for long. He must disappear into the night, before the police arrive. They would do very little, as they do not know how to deal with the supernatural, but they still have the power to arrest him & charge him with murder. The girls of the alley had fled after the bizarre & terrifying turn of events, so none of them saw Henry materialise from nothingness. Now that he has fed enough to last him several days, if necessity calls for him to go without sustenance, he can investigate the passing of the nation's sixteenth president. His journey will begin with Abe's widow; Mary Todd Lincoln, a woman who had been kept in the dark by her husband about the true nature of what was tearing this nation apart. Henry has not spoken with her personally since the death of her young son, Willie, at the hands of Vadoma. To go to her now will be difficult, but it is something that must be done.


End file.
